Give Me A Challenge
by Rocklaarts
Summary: post TDK-Alice Conner one day sits-in in a guest lecture. The guest is the Joker. Things will turn upside down and right side up before this lecture is over. OC/Joker a little OC/Riddler. re-vamped
1. Chapter 1

Thank you guys for all your reviews. *bows* I have re-vamped that first two chapters and add a couple little things. Please beware of some gram. and spelling mistakes. If you see any please don't hesitated to tell me. I hope to have the 2 chapter up in an hour or so and the third chapter up by tomorrow. Thank you, Thank you for all the review and please keep them coming.

Checked

____________________________________________________

From the view of Dr. James E. Gray....

January 20, 2009 - Today

It has been 6 mouths since the director of Arkham Asylum, Dr. John H. Ledger, assigned me to the John Doe that had been a terror to the entire city and now, my personal bleeding annoyance. A question has been floating through my mind since I have been assigned to watch over this mass murderer: why me? It's a simple and logical question. I had just graduated from University of Washington State and had only been working at Arkham for a month before I was called into the gaffer's office.

July 21, 2008

Dr. Ledger peered over his spectacles at me as I entered his office. Ledger was in his 50's, maybe early 60's. His black hair and mustache were slightly graying and you could see a light bald spot on top of his head. He wore a causal suit and had a paper knife in his hand. He was sorting through his mail when I came in.

"Please, Gray, sit – sit. I'm just finishing opening my mail," he said as he motioned to the chairs.

I sat down in one of the chairs. The room was a bit pleasant. The room was nicely lit and the walls were painted in a pale green color. There were two windows on the left side of the room and a settee sat in front of them. Ledger's caramel colored desk sat in the middle of the room. He had placed two armchairs in front of it. Books lined the dark brown selves that were behind Ledger and the right wall.

"You're probable wondering why I called last night for a meeting this morning on your day off," Ledger said as he set down the paper knife on the desk.

"Yes, sir, I do- I mean I am wondering why you called me," I shuddered. Idiot. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh, oh, no, no, no, you're not in trouble," Ledger chuckled.

"Really," I said as I exhaled the breath I was holding in. I thought he was going to fire me.

"Actually, I'm giving you a case. Have you heard of a John Doe that goes by 'the Joker'?"

Oh HELL NO "No. Ah, no. I'm not taking this case."

"Why not?"

"For the benefit of my personal health," I stated as I got up and headed towards the door.

"You're the only one for this case," Ledger simply said. I had my hand on the doorknob. I turned around and looked at him.

"That is complete and utter rubbish. I know almost all the doctors with the right clearance in this building want to be the doctor assigned to that case," I practically yelled at him.

"That's the point. You're the only doctor with the right clearance that didn't volunteer for this case."

"So that means I suppose to deal with this nut case because I didn't volunteer?"

"Yes, basically."

"Well, I'm not taking this case on."

"Yes, you are. Unless you want to be fired. Do you want to be fired," Ledger said as he leaned back in his chair. I turned silent. I would not hear the end of it from Mum if I was fired....

"I take it you'll take the case," Ledger said as he held up a file. I was trapped. I didn't reply him. I just took the file and left. That night, I went to the bar near my apartment and got drunk.

July 23, 20098 to January 5, 2009

John Doe (aka The Joker) and I have had a rocky relationship. Well, my life at Arkham was rocky. After everyone heard the news, I was shunned like I had the plague. All my colleague's eyes were filled with jealousy. The rest of the staff's eyes were either filled with fear or pity. They thought and still thought that he would break me. They only thought that because I was a greenhorn.

Back to the case that has been lay down at my door. At our first meeting, he knew I was new to my profession and taunted me of that fact throughout the whole session. His eyes were something I have never seen in a human before. I have seen those eyes in mad dogs back home my father had to put down, but never in a human being. There was also a look of boredom in them. I asked him his name. He replied his name was 'Joker'. He actually believed his name was 'Joker'. Was that a fake name or his mother had a sick humor and actually named him 'Joker'? I had no idea. He had to be born somewhere. He had to live somewhere during his childhood. He was very intelligent. He had to go to school somewhere. He knew how to hold a weapon and use it skillfully. That type of skill doesn't appear overnight. Did a family member teach him that skill? How can he even exist in this day and age without leaving a paper trail? When he was growing up, was he part of a religious group that hid from the world? Was he even born in this country?

We continued with the sessions. We were mostly playing cat and mouse. He as the cat and I as the mouse. At our twelfth session, he tried to strangle me with mint tooth floss. He didn't succeed. No one knew how he got it or how he sneaked it into the rooms where we held our weekly sessions. A couple of my colleagues had the nerve to come up to me and say I might be in over my head. Two problems. First, when one of my colleagues said I should quit The Joker case, their eyes holding a false-sincerity. Bastards. Second, if I quit this case, I would be on the plane to the Great Northwest the next day. To hell if I'm going to let that happen.

At this time, Dr. Harleen Quinzel had been annoying me with questions about 'the Joker'. She had always been bothering me to get insight on 'the Joker'. What was he like? What was his mood? Did he give you any insight past? But after the tooth floss incident, she has been more forceful on getting information from me. She was borderline obsessive about him. She would sometimes ring me up at very odd hours of the night, just to talk about my case. I understand most therapists need their own therapists or an outlet to talk about their own patients to get through their own profession and stay sane. But I would not and still don't talk to Quinzel or anyone really about the John Doe that went by the name of 'Joker'. I did this for the benefit of my health.

Also during this time, a new serial killer had come out of the wood work. There had been seventeen victims connected to the killer. He made his victims solve puzzles. He made them solve word, numbers, and picture puzzles. Like that killer in that horror movie 'Saw'. You know, the one with that creepy puppet doll thingie. If the victim didn't solve the problem in time, he killed them. He then writes a riddle in the victim's blood on a wall or floor near the body for the cops. The answer to the riddle is a clue to his next victim. The papers have been calling him 'The Riddler'. The only victim that had survived his attack was because a policeman was in the area and heard something. The surviving victim didn't live long afterwards. They found him two weeks later with cement shoes in the bottom of the river. It was a mob hit.

After the tooth floss incident, I still continued with the sessions. 'Joker' was appearing to be slowly calming down. He was becoming at least somewhat civil. The staff and the guards noticed the somewhat change. I became "the big man on campus." People were coming up to me in the Asylum's hallways and congratulating me and saying to 'keep up the good work'. They were asking me if I would write a book about the Joker and I. Why congratulate me? The emperor is wearing no clothes. He might act or say different thing now, but under the somewhat calm face, he was still a killer. That mad look in his eyes had never left him. It had actually grown stronger. He is fooling you, you idiots? He was just dancing to 'the systems' and the judge's tune so he could be let out and return to create more chaos.

January 7, 2009

I was once again called into the gaffer's office. The only reason I was called up to his office was because of a John Doe named 'the Joker'. Ledger had asked me to do weekly reports on 'Joker'. I only enclosed the bare minimum in those reports and I didn't really elaborate on any of the details of the sessions. Some of my colleagues thought I was keeping those a secret to write a book and publish it after the Joker is rehabilitated. That was the farthest thing from the truth there is. I don't write 'interesting' reports and I still didn't like or want this case. It wasn't good for my personal heath. Physically, I was alright, except for that tooth floss incident. Mentally, I was not. I guess I was still sane if I was still questioning my sanity, which I did every minute of everyday. But 'Joker's' words were taking their toll on my subconscious. Nightmare and odd dreams. Lack of sleep.

Ledger's office was still painted a pale green. It was just like that first day, except for a little plastic Christmas tree that sat on the edge of Ledger's desk that was left over from Christmas. Ledger's hair and mustache were a little grayer. The bald spot was a little bigger. He was in his usual causal suit and he was peering over his spectacles at me as I entered the room.

"Please, Gray, sit- sit," Ledger said as he set down the newspaper he was reading. "The Riddler: 31 murders and counting" said the newspaper's front page in big, bold, black letters. This was not good. He only asked me to sit down if he had important, usually bad, news for me.

"I think, Dr. Ledger, I will stand. If that is all right," I said politely.

"Alright, have it your way. I call you in here to tell you some good news," exclaimed Ledger

"I'm off 'the Joker' case," I said sarcastically.

"Heh-heh. That's funny, Gray. But no. Mr. Doe is going to be a guest lecturer at Gotham University Collage," chuckled Ledger. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

"A guest lecturer?"

"Yes, Gary. A guest lecturer."

OH Funking Hell. "I- I don't think Jo- I mean John Doe, is ready for that just yet," I stuttered out.

"Nonsense, he is ready. You have done wonderful with him. I knew you could do it," Ledger exclaimed.

"We don't know that for sure. He is not in society, yet."

"Well, this is the first step to entering a society. It will be only a handful of people."

"A dozen handfuls of people. Have you actual thought about this? What if the media gets a hold of this 'good news'?"

"Oh, don't worry so much. I have everything under control. He will only speak in front of one behavior analysis class and I issued them a silent agreement that they all had to sign. There is no reason we should worry about the media," explained Ledger

"Isn't it a little mean to force an entire class to talk to 'the Joker'. These students might have been attacked or have friends or family killed by 'the Joker'," I asked.

"I asked the professor to list the lecture optional. If a student does not wish to listen to the lecture, they could cut class those days. I just needed all parties involved in one form or another to keep quiet."

"'Those day'... There will be more then one guest lecture."

"Yes. Three to be exact."

"I don't like this. I will not sign off on this."

"You don't have to like this. You don't need to sign off on it because I'm signing it for you. Whether you like it or not, John Doe will be a guest lecturer at Gotham UC."

With that I left the room in silence. That night, I went to my usual bar and got drunk, again.

January 8, 2009

I woke up this morning with a hangover. I told Joker about him being a guest lecturer. He laughed his head off. The sound of his laughter was splitting my head open.

Death by laughter. That's funny.

January 20, 2009 – Today – The day of the lecturer

I stood outside the room in the Asylum that we were going to use for the lecture. A guy in his early or late twenties came up to me. His name was Cameron Lewis and he was the tech-ie that will be helping out with the electronics for the lecture. He had brown hair with a little orange in it. It was cut close to his head. He wore thick-rimed glasses on his face. He was wearing a white dress shirt and navy-blue jeans. He reminded me of those 'Greek Squad' guys in one of their commercials. He was shorter than me and I was 5'8. He was carrying a mac-notebook.

"Um, Dr. Gray," he said to me.

"Yes," I answered.

"Everything is ready to go. There will be a 5 minute delay on our end. For the first 5 minutes or so, The Joker will see and hear the class, but the class won't see or hear The Joker," Cameron explained.

"Is there anyway to fix that?" I asked.

"No, there isn't. It's too close to show time as it is to fix it," explained Cameron.

"Fine," I said. I reached into the left side pocket of my lap coat and pull out a radio. I said in to the ratio, "Bring John Doe up."

I waited for a replied. A couple seconds later I got one.

"Roger. We're bringing him up," said the prison guard over the radio.

Ten minutes later, Joker sat in a metal chair with his legs cuffed to the metal table that was cemented to the floor in front of him. A flat screen computer sat on the metal table. He sat his hands in lap in white scrubs that all the Arkham Asylum's patients wore. His face was clear of any make-up; he hadn't been wearing any for six months. The room was painted a very dull green color and there were no windows. The only source of light came from a florescent light that was built into the ceiling. I leaned against the wall straight behind him. Joker turned his head around and looked back at me.

"Today's the big day, ain't it, Doc," he asked me. I ignored him. He started laughing, "Oh oh ha ha ha...ha...someone's not to happy about this. 'friad I'll scare the little sheep, Doc?"

Yes, I was scared. I was frustrated. I was at angry at the whole situation. I pulled a telly remote out of from a pocket in my lab coat.

"I'm going to turn on the screen and for the first 5 minutes. You will see the class and hear what they are saying, but they will not hear or see you. There is a delay in the system," I said as I pointed at the screen. I pressed a red button and the screen flashed on.

Here we go.


	2. Chapter 2

Checked

___________________

My little Theories.

When I think of the word 'joker', I think of the word _trickster_. Like Puck in _Midsummers Night Dream _or Coyote from Native American legends or Loki from Norse mythology. The trickster is a deity that breaks the rules of nature, but in the end, the world in the story has change for the better because of that law-breaking trickster. An unsung hero. An anti-hero.

Whenever a person from Gotham thinks of the word 'joker', they think of the mad man that terrified the city last July. They think of the white, red, and black stage make-up that was smeared on his face. They think of the purple and green suit he wore on his body. They think of the bone chilling soundtrack of his laughter and the crude words he said. They think of the 'show' he put on for city, complete with explosive drama with a slice of tragedy. They think of the psychopathic, mass murdering, schizophrenic clown with zero empathy that call himself _The Joker_.

I was not in Gotham City then. I was on the other side of the country, on the coast of California. I was actually packing up my stuff to move to Gotham the day The Joker stood up and caught the attention of the nation's spotlight and camera lights. My friends and family thought I was little out of my head for moving from San Francisco to Gotham, but when this whole business with The Joker started, they thought I was complete and utterly crazy and suicidal to go through with the move. My Dad was scared shit-less for me. He didn't buy me pepper-spray, like usual fathers do. He bought me a shot-gun and bullets to go with it. A week after The Joker was caught, I was in my 1968 Volkswagen Beetle heading towards Gotham City. That was six months ago.

It was not hard to get a back seat for The Joker guest lecture for there was only five people, plus myself and Professor Flores, the teacher that taught the behavior analyst coarse. He looked like an average college professor. He was in his late 40's. The only hair left on his head was a mustache and some nose hairs. He was dressed in his usual gray suit and his tie was either navy blue with red strips, or red with navy blue stripes. He was standing in front of the auditorium behind his podium. Someone had set up a cloth screen in front of the auditorium and placed a small web camera and a table in front of the screen. There was a projector on desks not too far away from me. Out of the forty regular students, only six students had shown up. Grace Adams, Brandon Colemen, Xavier Watson, Antonio 'call me Tony' Castilo, Edward Nygma, and myself, Alice Conner, were the only ones brave enough or stupid enough or crazy enough to show up. The lights were dimmed.

"Hello there," the Professor started off, "this lecture is not about condemnation of what the criminal that we know as The Joker. I know, I know, what he did was cruel and unusual. What he did was down right inhumane. He is the reason I have too few students in not in my class this year and today... This QA is not about that. It is the why.... to put logic to the illogical.... Before we get started, what do _you _know about The Joker? How about... you, Ms. Adams. What do you think of The Joker?"

My gaze shifted to the seat in front of me where Grace sat doodling in her notebook. She had blonde hair pull back in a tight bun and wore tin-frames glasses. Grace Adams was one of those narrow-minded people and lost attention easily on one thing. Her world was so black and white; if you thought just outside the norm or had a different lifestyle than hers, then you were a freak to her. I bet you a cookie that she will say that The Joker is crazy or insane, but she would not think of anything fast enough to back up that statement.

"I think he is just plain crazy," Grace stated in an angry tone. You owe me a cookie.

"Ok. How many of you agree with that statement?" Professor Flores asked the class. Grace, Brandon, Xavier, and Tony raised their hands. Edward tiled his hand in a 'maybe yes/maybe no' gesture. I didn't raise my hand.

"Why are you shaking your hand, Mr. Nygma," Professor Flore asked the guy that sat a couple seats away from me to my right. I didn't really know anything of Edward Nygma's personalty. He kept to himself in class and had sort of a lazy look about him when ever I saw him around campus. Rumor has it, he was a big party animal and would stay up all night at parties making the drinks. His drinks were legendary.

He had sea-green eyes and Irish red hair that you could spot anywhere in a crowd. Edward rolled his eyes at the question.

"I'm showing that I only agree to half of that statement." He paused for a second, "He does things and he doesn't know why he does them, but then you look back later and think on how he did things...the things he did without truly thinking about how they would work in his plan, are actually pure genius. He seems he is not all there, but then he is there at the same time."

"Good observance, Mr. Nygma. Now what about you Ms. Connor," the professor asked me.

I thought for a moment, and then answered. "He's bored."

"He's bored, Ms. Connor?" the professor said in confusion.

"Yes. He's bored. That's why he plays with The Batman. He's not crazy. He is far from it. He's probably very intelligent and because he's very intelligent, he's very bored... He could have killed Batman a lot of times, but he didn't because Batman is a challenge for him. Why kill your fun? It's classic case of the 'heroes-dilemma'. If the hero kills the villain, then he is out of his job. That's what the Batman has done. We have not seen or heard from the Batman since the Jokers went to the slammer. After the Joker, petty robbers and gang-bangers seem like a joke... The Joker spices life up for Batman, just as the Batman spices life up for the Joker," I said as I played with my No. 2 pencil.

"So you're saying he is sane...If he is sane, then why are his crimes so random? I've heard he doesn't even plan his robbers," commented Brandon Colemen from across the room.

"He plans, sort of. He plans he wants to jack a place. He plans to use a certain weapon to jack the place. He plans some way to escape. That's it... He doesn't get to the details, which leaves him with many more options than having a strict ritual that he has to follow... Wouldn't it kill the fun doing the same thing over and over again," I shot back to him. I to my right and spotted Edward Nygma. He was starring at me in a very odd and unpleasant way. It looked like he was either fascinated by me or he wanted to rip my head off. I think he wanted to rip my head off more.

"Alright, we think we know the Joker, but we have never had a conversation with him. We have him here today via video feed. Do not say your name and don't get too personal. This is the first lecture out of three." As Professor Flores said this, the face of the clown prince of crime appeared on the screen. I around at the auditorium. Everyone had their eyes glued to the screen. People pulled back into their chairs. Someone gasped. There was dead silence. I was thinking that if I dropped a pin, I would hear the echo bounce off the walls. He, The Joker, was the center of attention.

The Joker looked around the auditorium. He flicked his gaze over my form. I glared back at him. Then that gazed passed over the rest of the auditorium. He stared at us. We stared at him. He stared at me. I was watching the rest of the room. For a whole three minutes (that felt like eternity), no one said a word. Then out of the blue, the Joker, this man on the screen with Glasgow smile, burst out laughing. I nearly jumped out of my chair. That laughter died as quickly as it came. Anger replaced the laughter.

"Why so serious," the Joker said as he licked his lips. His voice was sinister, but mocking at the same time. It was like his voice was dripped with laughter and crudity that could make anyone's skin crawl. Everyone in the classroom was silent. We all knew that we were having the Joker as a guest speaker, but it still didn't prepare us for, well... _him._

With the clown make-up striped away, he looked almost...human. I knew this guy was the Joker, but then I didn't know this guy was the Joker? Does that even make sense? If I had passed this man on the street, I would not have pegged him as the Joker. I would have say he had an odd manner and maybe thought he was attractive, but would not have given him a second look. He was young. Late 20's-Early 30's. The expression in his face and his eyes made him look a little older, a little scarier. He had bags under his dark brown eyes. I was curious about his Glasgow smile and I took a closer look.

"Why are of you scared? Is it the...scars? You want to know how got em?" asked the man with the Glasgow smile on the TV screen. I heard Grace start hyperventilating. She quickly got up and ran, not walk, to the doors behind me. She looked a little green around the gills to me. One down. Six to go.

"I...I think not, Mr. Joker. Maybe later. Why don't you tell us...I mean, introduce yourself properly by telling us your real name," said Professor Flores. I look at over at him. He was sweating. Flores was putting up a good front, but he was also rattled by the Joker.

"Why don't you tell me yours, fir-st." I thought the Joker was talking to Flores, but Flores looked at me. Was the Joker talking to me? I look back at the Joker. He was leaning into the camera, peering out into the classroom.

"Sooo- what's your name, toots?" Great. Think fast.

"It's Rabbit," I said. Oh crap. Why did I say my childhood name? Why did Mother even give me a stupid nickname like 'Rabbit' as a child? Oh yeah, because of that fairytale by Lewis Carroll. I loved _Alice in Wonderland_ when I was a kid, but I never wanted to be nicknamed after that cute, fuzzy hairball that had time management issues. My mother gave me and my older sister and brothers a nickname as children. She kept on calling us by our nicknames until she forgot about us.

"Realllly," he said as his brow goes up.

"Yes, really," I said with my best fake smile.

"Are you sure, now? Ya know, I hate liars." He licked the scar inside his mouth.

"I'm not lying. It is my name, and then it isn't... Now, what about your name? Are you compensating for something when you put the 'the' in front of your name, I wonder," I said as I sat forward in my chair.

"Ohhh, a sharp tough. I wonder what else you could do with that tough of yours." The Joker giggled as he said this. He was holding back his laughter. If he was going to laugh at me, why doesn't he just fully laugh it up? I was going to make a snarly remark back at him but I was interrupted by the guy a few seat to the right of me, Edward Nygma.

"So how did you control your gang," asked Edward. The Joker looked at him and cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"What do you...a mean. I don't have a 'gang'." The Joker smacked his lips in disgust as he said it.

"How did you control your thugs? I mean, they knew you usually took out your own men. What made them come back to you and not talk to the police? What did you do to push them over the limit to obey you," asked Edward. I looked at Edward. I saw no emotion in his face. He was controlling it very well. A hella lot better then me.

"Well, Ya know. I really did nothing. For some reason or another...ya see... they come to me. For being outcasts of sociality or for petty money, though the ones that are in it for the money don't last very long...well, very of them few last long." The Joker suddenly erupted into laughter.

"You still have not explained why they didn't go to the police." Edward's control on his emotions was slipping. His face was fine, but his voice was sounding like a child that didn't get a straight answer from an adult. The Joker kept on laughing for a minute or so. He calmed down enough to talk again, but he was still having fits of giggles.

"Ha Ha Heh Heh Heh Hehh... You obviously have not been in town long, kid. Don't you know there are a lot and I mean a lot of schemers this town's justice system. If someone went to them for a type of pro-tection… hee hee. They would end up pushing up daisies... Maybe by me, bu-t most likely from the cop who's suppose' to be protecting them," said the Joker in a low mocking voice. He turned his attention back at me.

"Why so serious, bunny. Did I frighten our little rabbit with my talk," he said with a cutesy voice. The type of voice an adult would say to a toddler. Oh, I'm pissed.

"No...No, you didn't. What you say is true. Gotham's justice department is full of corruptions and back-room deals. You would most likely to be shot by the police than be shot by a punk on the street. I'm curious, though," I said, looking the Joker straight in the eyes.

"Curious, huh? Doesn't curiosity kill the bunny in the end," the Joker said with amusement. Ha Ha, very amusing. Such a joke. Such a joker.

"I have two little theories about your smile. I noticed that the right side of your Glasgow smile was curvier and of cleaner cut then the left side. I guess that whoever did that to you had a better hold on your head and did the cut much faster on the right side then on the left. If you had cut up your own face, then you did the left side first. You hesitated on the left side, then gain courage on doing the right. I can't tell if you did it yourself or someone else did it for y-." I stopped talking for there was nothing on the screen to talk to. Joker had taken the screen on his end and thrown it against a wall or something. I had seen the rage and the hate building in his eyes when I explained my little theories. I swear, if it wasn't for me being here and him being there.... Well, I don't want to think about him being here, in the same room.

Everyone cleared out of the auditorium in silence and as quickly as possible with out seeming impolite. I felt Edward Nygma's stare burning the hairs off the back of my head. Mental Note: stay the hell away from Edward Nygma.

That night, I watched old movies with my roommate, Kitty Zhu. We stayed up most of the night. Kitty fell asleep somewhere in the middle of _The Maltese Falcon_. I finally fell asleep when Humphrey Bogart said that famous movie line in _Casablanca_. He had slammed his fist on the table, jiggling his glasses of alcohol, looking pissed.

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world's, she walks into mine."


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything from TDK or Watchman or any of David Bowie songs. I do not own The Joker and all the other character excepted maybe Alice, but that's it. Thank You._

_Checked_

________________________

Josie and Victim 51

The DVD screen saver ball was bouncing off the edges of the screen of the TV as I woke up. I stared, memorized by it in a cautious/unconscious state for I think for a good 30 minutes. My brain was working overtime giving messages to my body to become fully awake. I finally sat up and looked around my apartment I shared with Kitty Zhu. The living room was painted in a creamy brown color and the walls were donned with tasteful movies posters. Kitty was asleep on the sofa with a Mikey mouse blanket thrown over her. Her head was buried in a pillow and her black, usual straight, hair covering her face. As far as I knew, this was her day from work and she had no classes today. Let her sleep. My back muscles were hurting. I seemed too have slept on the white rugged covered floor, like I usual did when we had an old-school movie night.

My hand fumbled to reach my cell phone that lay on the light table next to the sofa. I nearly knocked over our only source of light for the living room. I flipped open my phone and checked the time. The numbers "9:17" glared back at me. I only had 5 hours of sleep. What the hell woke me up? I could go back to sleep for a couple more hours. I had a class at 1. My behavior analyze class. I started remember yesterday and what I said in that class. I inwardly and outwardly groaned. Why was I so stupid? I didn't really think of what I was saying. Yeah, those are that I was saying were things I was thinking, but .....Gawk. I am observer. I am one of those women of few words, really, but this guy ...this Joker just sets me off. I just want to to piss him off. I don't know what it is, but I hella wanted to piss him off and I was delighted that I did. I pissed him off and I knew he could squish me like a bug when he he wanted to, but I still said those stupid words. It's like a little chihuahua taking on a pit-bull. The chihuahua knows in the back of his/her head that it will not win the dog fight, but he/she still bites the pit-bull's tail.

I got up and stumbled into the bathroom I caught my dreadful sight in the mirror above the sink. My reddish brown hair was messy and looked like I had not brushed it in days. It went down to my lower back and it was quite think. My long bangs were in front of my eyes, making me look like a shaggy dog. I push the bang behind my ear and reviled my green eyes, that had some brown in them. I had a look on my face like I was half dead and needed more sleep. In my opinion, I looked very sloppy. I was wearing my favorite black hoodie that was five sizes too big for me. I was also in my devil ducky pajamas that were to long for me, making me trip in as I walked. I took a good amount of time in the shower. I changed into a black 3 quarter sleeved stretch knit top and a pair of dark blue jeans. I brushed my haired till it shined and I clipped backed my bangs. I slipped into my vans and a jean jacket. I grabbed my wallet, the cellphone and keys and headed out

The apartment was a couple a of blocks from campus. The area was dotted with coffee shops, liquor shops, and night clubs. There were some drug dealers doing business here, but they were small potatoes compare to the other drug dealers in the city. Mostly people who lived in this area either worked or went UC Gotham lived here. I bought a newspaper at the newsstand on the corner near my apartment like I usual do when I have the chance. The rough sketch of The Riddler plastered the front page.

"The Riddler: Victim 51?" said the headline.

"_Special Agent Jack Harris, age 37, was body was found in the alleyway behind the court house. Could he have been the The Riddler's 51__st__ victim? The Riddler surly had motive. Agent Harris was the lead FBI profiler on The Riddler's case. Just last week, he and his team released a profile on the individual know as 'The Riddler' with a sketch. But is he victim 51? He had survived hours of torture and stress before death. His body was dumped there. He was not killed there. That's the MO of The __Riddler's recent murders ever since victim 36, Donny Castilo. The problem is Agent Harris body had no riddle or puzzle or pictograph near him. Also, The Riddler only targets people that have some link to drug violence. Was Agent Harris dealing drugs or is this a isolated insolent and The Riddler had nothing to do with his death? Agent Harris was most famous for his books on serial killers. Some of those convicted felons have stood up and openly condemned his books about them. Could one of his past adversaries have killed him? Maybe, he was to close to cracking the case. Did he get to close to The Riddler? Was he murdered for wha-"_

My reading was interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. I turned my head and found Edward Nygma staring at me with a sly smile on his face. His red hair gleamed in the sunlight. He was dressed in a deep green, almost black, dress shirt. He wore a vest that was a little lighter green than his dress shirt. He was wearing black pin striped slacks, not ratty jeans as I usual saw him in. His shoes looked like very expensive dress shoes. How could a collage student afford those shoes? He had his messenger bag slug over his shoulder. He was dressed elegantly and rugged at the same time. He look very attractive. Ok, he looked more then attractive. He was hot, in my opinion. I would have not have mind it one bit if he took off that vest and shirt because it was too hot. Wait a minute. What happen to that mental note? Bad libido.

"Hey," He said with that sly smile I knew some of the girls would faint to see.

"...Hi," I said awkwardly.

"Your in my behavior analyze class aren't you. Alice Conner, right? The one who had enough balls to piss off The Joker. So why did you do it," he said this statement very loudly. The newsstand's vendor and some of his costumers looked over at us when he said words 'pissed off The Joker'. Great way to draw to attention to us. I panicked and gaped at him for a moment. We were not supposed to talk about anything about The Joker lectures or even the existents of the lectures in public. I quickly grasped his arm and piratically dragged him to down the street.

"Why are you even talking about that here," I said in embarrassment as I dragged him down the street.

"Then where should we talk about The Jo-" I covered his mouth with my had. I franticly looked around. There was a coffee not too far away from us. I dragged him in there and order coffee for both of us. We graped the coffee and we sat in a somewhat isolated table in the back of the coffee shop.

"So what do you want,"I said as a sipped the cup of coffee. I sounded angry.

"I don't want anything really. I just want to know why you made The Jo-."

"Josie," I said cutting him off.

"Josie? Who's Josie," He said in confusion. I gave Edward a meaningful look.

"You want to know why I said those words in class to piss 'Josie' off at her own lecture," I said. He got who 'Josie' was. "But my question before I say the answer to your question is why do you want to know why I intentionally pissed Josie off?"

"I'm curious," he said using the word back at me.

"Ok....good answer...Ok, I don't know why I pissed him off. I have answered your question in the best of my ability. Now it's my turn. You purposely spoke loudly that I pissed off Josie. You wanted to conner me and have a conversation about Josie. Am I right or wrong?" I glared st him. Don't you dare say that statement was false.

"Yep, that and I wanted to have morning coffee with a very intelligent women," he said with a smirk. My bullshit meter was going off.

"Cut the bullshit. You don't actual think I'm an 'intelligent women'."

"Fine. Here's my next question. How did you know those statements would piss off The Jo- I mean Josie. Those were only stories you were spinning. Josie spins stories all the time," he said. He had that look again. The looked like he either wanted to kill me or applaud me. His gazed traveled down my body. I squirmed in my seat.

"That the point. Those stories were fiction. They have no fact to them. My little theories are based on fact. Himself or another person started cutting his face up on the left side then move to the right. From how he reacted, my little theory was right," I said calmly trying to ignore his intense glare, "why are you so interested in Josie?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you usual sleep in that class and you hardly interested in the class from what I have observed."

"You observed me," Edward look more angry then flatter, like most people are when I tell them I'm observed them.

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"I observed many people. Your just one of a million people I observe on a daily basis and you have not answered my question."

"...He's a puzzle," He sneered moving closer to me.

"Ah, you like challenges. You think Josie has the brain power that is on par to your own. You see the challenge on figuring him out because you don't know if he is incredible brilliant or just a lucky madman. That what draw you to him," I said drawing closer to him. My forest green eyes glared at his blue-green ones.

"Yeah. What about you? What draws you to Josie?"

"Who says I'm drawn to Josie"

"Your going to the QA's, am I right?"

"Yep, but that doesn't mean I'm interested in Josie."

"Then who are you interested in?" he said from a few inches from my face. I could feel hot breath on my face. His gaze flicked down to my lips then back to my eyes. That look in his blue-green eyes became more intense. I unwillingly shivered. I noticed how far our faces were from another and broke the gaze.

"No...No, I'm not interested in anyone. I'm just there to get my degree," I said leaning back in my chair getting as far enough away from Edward that was considered polite. "My turn. What is with the expensive shoes? They look a little to much for a collage student."

"I'm borrowing them from a friend. I was at a wedding last night. There was a little mishap and I could not get to my apartment and change before my class that was at 7 o'clock," Edward said as he also leaned back in his chair. He had a small smirk on his face. I could not tell if he was telling me a lie or if he was actual telling the truth.

"I'm sorry," I said and I meant it I knew what it was going back to back doing stuff and not changing my cloths from the day before.

"...It's alright. How dose being in a behavior analyze course help you reach your goal to get a Masters in Literature," he pointed out. What the?

"How do you know that?"

"Your not the only person who observes people." His smirk was growing.

"Well, la-de-da," I annoyingly said, "I'm going to be writing about people in my books. I want to write murder mysteries. Shouldn't I know about the mind set and patterns of the people I'm going to write about."

"True. I would have thought you were there because you wanted to change your major to psychology."

"What? Never," I said in shock and horror, "I may be insane, but not that far off the deep end."

"What do you mean? Are you saying psychologist are insane," he said

"Yep, you have to be somewhat crazy to try to map out the human mind. Psychologist study crazy people. Why," I stopped to drink my coffee, but the cup was empty. Aww, no more coffee. "Maybe because they think they are a little insane themselves and that studying truly insane people makes them feel like they are less insane. Look at Dr. Jonathan Crane. People say he was an inch away from becoming one of his own patients when he was a therapist. One day, he just snapped and became Scarecrow." I looked over at my forgotten newspaper on the table.

"So, what do you think of The Riddler," I said after thinking for a moment. I looked up at Edward. That look and smirk that he wore on his face for most of the conversation was gone. He looked like someone rammed something up his ass. He was stiff and his face was clean of any emotions. What's wrong with him?

"Why do you ask that," he said after a moment of silence.

"Well, everyone is talking about him nowadays. Who do you think is The Riddler," I said to Edward. He relaxed a little, but he still controlled his emotions.

"He is like Batman, only better."

"Say what?"

"He is like Batm-"

"I heard what you said," I said cutting him off, "Can you please explain that statement to me."

"Batman has one rule, right" he began. That smirk appeared back on his face.

"Yeah, his rule is he doesn't kill. Well, that was his rule until he kill Harvey Dent and those cops," I said following along

"True as far as I know. The Riddler takes it a step further and just murders the scumbags. He doesn't hide that he kills them. In my eyes, he is a hero," he said in a mocking tone.

"So your saying...The Riddler is like a real life Rorschach."

"Rorschach? Like the test?"

"No, he's a anti-hero in a comic book. _The Watchman_ by... umm... Alan Moore and a couple of other people. Rorschach is a driven, vengeance-fueled vigilante, with a thirst for blood and is crazier then a nut. After all the other superhero's have retired, he is stills continues with his battle against crime, even if his methods are illegal. He is stubborn has a mule and that gets him in the end" I explain to Edward.

"What happens to him in the end," Edward looked interested in my answer. We both jumped a little out of ours seats when my cell phone went off just then. The chorus from David Bowie's song _Magic Dance_ broke the calm and quiet coffee shop. I needed to take this call.

"I need to take this. I'll see you at The Jo- I mean Josie lecture," I said as I got up and walked quickly towards the door all the while looking at my cell phone.

"Wait, Alice." Edward graped my wrist when I was half why out the door. I looked back at him and my breath caught in my throat. The look in his eyes where not of murderous intent or admires, but a look of desperation. Why was not knowing about a comic book character's fate make him pull off that look? I tried to twist my wrist out of his grip. It didn't work. He was too strong.

"Please, Alice, please tell me what happen to Rorschach in the end?"

"He dies," I said finally wrenching my wrist out of his hand. I left the coffee shop and Edward standing there.


	4. Chapter 4

_I am sorry that I have not been not updating. I had one weird summer and stuff happened and I lost track. I hope my spelling and grammar aren't as bad in this one. Thank you all and I love the feedback._

_Checked_

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Forgetting or Forgotten

Athazagoraphobia was the fear of forgetting or being forgotten. All people have that fear to some degree. Does he remember my name? Will the teacher notice me when she's doing attendance? Will anyone know the name of my corpse or will I just be forever a Jane Doe? Almost all people try to stand out from the crowd. 'I'm special in my own way ergo I should be remembered.' When faced with death, one might lose this fear, but usually the fear increase. To the point to obsession. Like giving all their lifesavings to charities or staging a dramatic suicide, taking other people with you to the pearly gates is optional.

My sister has athzagoraphobia. She was not afraid of being forgotten; she is afraid of forgetting. The newspaper was under my arm. I was steadily retreating down the street from the cafe where I'd left a very odd-acting Edward Nygma. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and looked at it a moment. The name Logan flashed on my caller ID. I opened and placed the phone next to my ear.

"Hey Sis, what's up," I said into the cell phone.

"OhmygodohmygodIforgottenhisnamei'mturningoutlikemomohmygodohmygod," a voice of my sister rushed out in loud, panic shriek. I tore the phone away from my ear. After a couple a seconds, I held the phone once again to my ear.

"Whoa, Logan. Calm down. Breathe in and out," I said in calm voice. I heard my sister exhale and inhale. "Now tell me what happened."

"Last night, I had sex with a guy," she started off.

"You slept with guy? That's it... If you slept with a girl, then you would come to be rethinking your sexual preference, but other than that, you don't come to me with dating advice. So, what's so big about this guy that you have to come to me," I interrupt her.

"There's nothing special about the guy. I just met him last night and I don't remember his name."

"So?"

"You don't get it. I don't remember his name. I'm slowly getting what Mom has," Logan said with a panic shrill. Again, I tore the phone away from my ear

"That's a big leap from just forgetting some guy's name to, say, you are developing early-onset Alzheimer's," I said with skepticism. My mother was diagnosed with FAD or Familial Alzheimer's diseases. Familial Alzheimer's disease is an early-onset Alzheimer that struck earlier in life, between the ages of sixteen and sixty-five; Mom was only forty-two. Logan was ten and I was four. She inherited it from her father who in turn inherited from his father.

I remembered when I was a kid. I was coming down the stairs for breakfast. Mom was cooking eggs and beacon. She looked up at me and then asked whose child I was and how did I get in. After that, it took an hour or so for me to stop screaming and crying that I was my mother's daughter. And it took an hour after that for Mom to finally remember me and even then I think she was not entirely convinced that I was her child. It's a 50/50 chance that we will develop it. My siblings and I will always have the threat of Alzheimer's over our heads.

"Can you please run down what happened from last night till you called me," I finally said after I thought for a moment.

"K...so...um... Me and Mimi and Karin were at that club on New Montgomery. So we were dancing. We got tired after a while. I headed to the bar. There was this hot blond cutie there. We flirted. We dance. He took me back to his place and we had sex. Oh my God, did we have SEX," she said in an engrossed voice.

"Focus, Minx," I interrupted. I don't want the image of my sister humping some faceless blond guy.

"...I awoke next to him. I realized I forgot his name. Grabbed my cloths and got the hell out of there. Then I called you. The End."

"Did you have anything to drink?"

"Like what?"

"Like alcohol."

"Duh, yeah. Of course,"

"There you go."

"There I go what?"

"You may have had too much to drink. The booze clouded your mind and that's how you don't remember his name," I explain slowly.

"Really... Alright, that must have happened. Thanks. Bye." My sister hung up the phone before I could say bye.

"Your welcome," I said as I closed my cell phone and put it back in my pocket. Logan and I are sisters, but that's all our relationship is. She might, on occasion, come time to time to panic or cry about one thing or another to me. Other than being a blanket for her, she didn't really notice me. We were too different. She liked to party the night away; I liked to stay at home and read. She liked living in reality; I liked living, to certain extent, in fantasy. She thought I was a smart ass geek; I thought her a dumb bimbo.

I decided to go to class early. It was 11:30. It was best to always arrive early and get a back seat. You never know how fast they will fill up. I swung by my apartment to pick up my books, my messenger bag, and a pop-tart. Kitty was in the shower, singing her lungs out to some new pop song. The neighbors will complain again.

UC Gothan was a half a mile from my apartment. The UC had five orange-red brick buildings. Each with about three stories and built in the early 1800's. They were a striking contrast from the black-gray skyline. Past the UC was The Cauldron. Not a good place to be when you were going home late from the library or a party. Many a college student got jacked there. The Cauldron is an area known for organized crime. The Irish Mob ran The Cauldron area.

I stepped into the auditorium. It still looked the same as the last time I was here. I thought I was the first to arrive until I looked down to the first row. She was tall and had red hair. Where Nygma's hair was more a brownish red, hers was more a carrot red. It was tied back in a ponytail that ended at her shoulders. Her eyes were brown and her skin fair. She was causally dressed in a turtle-neck and tan slacks. She sat rigid in her seat. I had never seen this person before in this class or anywhere on campus, which was odd. In the back of my mind, she had a neon light hanging over her yelling 'police'. She was either a bad undercover cop or a child of one. She turned her head and looked back at me. I gave her a blank stare. She gave me a sort of glare. I dropped my bag at the desk I usually sit and sat down. I just stared out into open space until Professor Flores walked in with his overstuffed brief case. He was wearing his usually gray suit, but today he had a forest green tie around his collar. He looked around the room, meeting my eyes and then meeting the eyes of the Ms. Undercover in the front row.

"You're not in my usual class. I will have to ask you to leave. This is a closed class," said the Professor to Ms. Undercover.

"I am in your class. I just signed up yesterday. See. I might not be on the attendance sheet yet," Ms. Undercover explained as she handed him a piece of paper that she produce from her backpack.

"Yes, I see. Ms. Gordon. You just transferred here from out of state. You do know who the guest lecturer is today, right," the Professor said as he looked from the paper to her.

"Yes, I do," said Gordon, earnest. Gordon...mmmm. That name sounded somewhat familiar. It was a common name...

"Ms. Conner!" Flores loud voice hit me like cold water.

"Ahhh, Yes!" I said, snapping out of my thinking.

"Let's not have a repeat of yesterdays disturbance, right, Ms. Conner," he said in a stern voice.

"Fine," I said in a 'whatever' voice.

"Not 'fine', Ms. Conner. If it happens again, I will kick you out of this class," he said, turning to his papers.

"What did you do," asked Ms. Gordon as she turned around in her seat to face me.

"The bitch pissed off The Joker," said a voice behind me. I turned my head around. Antonio 'call me Tony' Castilo was leaning on the door frame. Tony was a wannabe gangster/mobster from New York. The only reason he got in to the UC was because of his basketball skills. I don't know how good he was on the court because I never saw one of his games. Xavier Watson was standing behind him. Where ever Tony went, Xavier followed. They came from the same committee in New York, were the same height ay 6'8, played basketball, and were on the same team. Only Xavier got into this UC with brains while Tony got in on muscle.

"What?" questioned Gordon.

"I pissed off the Joker by telling him a tiny truth about his Glasgow smile," I explained, turning back to her.

"You know how he got his scars," she said in great surprise.

"No, but I know which side was cut first," I corrected.

"And that 'tiny truth' will get all our asses full of lead," Tony said in a pissed off tone as he sat down in one of the middle row seats. Xavier sat right next to him.

"You think The Joker's going escape from Arkham," said Gordon.

"Sure. Why not? He is crazy enough," said Tony as he leaned back in his seat.

"And the police will catch him again," said Gordon.

"No, they won't. The Batman caught him the first time," said Edward Nygma as he walked into the auditorium. He dropped his messenger bag next to mine and sat down in the desk next to mine. He has never done this before. He was still as handsome as he was in the coffee shop. He had changed and was wearing his usual ratty jeans and long sleeves t-shirt. I ignored him. "Batman has not been seen since he killed Harvey Dent. If The Joker gets out, maybe The Riddler will catch him."

"The Riddler? That's crazy. He's worse than Batman. The Riddler is more like a serial killer then a vigilante." Tony gave Edward a 'are you crazy' look as he said this.

"The Riddler is the same as Batman," said Edward. I could feel the tension seeping out of his skin.

"He sets up puzzles and clues. That's what some serial killers do," said Tony. I looked to my side at Edward. He had a frightening smirk and eyes that looked like he wanted to murder Tony. His face and body language scared me. He looked like a cobra ready to strike, all lazy and loose and aiming its fangs at the victim's neck. I knew Edward idolized the Riddler, but this was too much.

"That's enough, guys" I said loudly. I then whispered to Edward, without looking at him. "Calm down. He's not worth it."

I turned my head to look at Edward. He was not shooting laser beams from his eyes at Tony; he was looking down. I followed his gaze. Somehow, I had gripped his wrist during the conversation between Tony and Edward and was now holding on to his left sleeve for dear life. I very quickly tore my figures from his sleeve, my face hot from embarrassment. Edward was about to say something, but Flores interrupted him.

"Now, if you're all ready or not, shall we begin?"

Neither Brandon or Grace showed up. Two down. Five to go, plus one.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you guys for the wonderful reviews. I sort of wrote myself into a corner on the last one, but now I'm over the hump, I will be updated a lot quicker. expect the next chapter this week. Thank you all again and please review.

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Watch your back, James E. Gray.

from the view of James E. Gray

An old professor of mine said one day in class,

"Your thoughts, reasons, and psychological understanding are like a labyrinth in your head. It's is good to enter this labyrinth from time to time, but always make sure you can get back out. If you travel too deep into that labyrinth, you will lose your way and you will find not so pleasant of things. Darkness of your own invention will swallow you up and you will forever be in-cased in the darkness, which lives in ever human soul. You may have all the insight of the world by being enveloped by this darkness, but you will be mad…MAD. Completely barking MAD."

I see myself slipping. I see myself slipping into the deepest part of my mind and I don't know how to stop myself. I knew this case was not benefit for my personal heath. I am losing sight on what is real or not, what is true or false. I have become paranoid. I feel eyes on my back when I'm at the Asylum (did that janitor sneer at me), on the street (was that a shot gun in that old lady's purse), in my apartment (was the toaster rigged with explosives), and even in my dreams (the Joker 's laugh echo in the dark). Last night, I almost ran into a light post because I kept looking behind me to see if anyone was following me. Someone or something is out to get me. Loud noises may make me jump out of my skin, but it is the silent that terrifies me. That deathly eerie silent. The type of silence that I am in now.

I leaned against the wall in almost the same place as the last time. Blood drops now were spattered here and there on the wall behind me. The janitorial staff tried to get the blood drops off, but with no bleach, they could not get it off. This year's budget was so little, that it almost impossible for anyone in any department to get any work done. It was still a small room with very dull green painted walls and there were still no windows. The florescent light that were built into the ceiling flickered and dimmed occasional, making the mood in this already eerie room, more eerie. It almost feels like monsters form old horror movies I stayed up watching when I was a kid would jump out from the little cracks in the walls and eat me alive at any moment. A boxy TV screen with a webcam on top of it was on the metal table in the center of the room. A new metal chair sat in front of it. The last metal chair sat that sat there was destroyed by the Joker during the last lecture.

That young lady notice something, that neither all the medical staff and myself did not notice. Why? Why had not anyone else notice that? Why had not I notice it? It's was an embarrassment that people with medical doctorates and years of scientific knowledge could not have noticed that. That scientific deduction must have been true to some degree, because after The Joker punched the flat screen in. He ripped the power cores out of the wall. I tried to stop him by coming up behind him, taking a hold of his neck and putting my weight on his back. It didn't work. He quickly through me off of him. My back it the wall and I slid down it. He tried to reach for me to let out his anger on me. He realized his ankles were still cuffed to the leg of the metal table. So he picked up the metal chair he was sitting in and use that to hit me with. Finally after a minute or so (I could not tell), security and medical response burst through the door and sedated him.

Before I let the medical team checked me out for internal injuries, I quickly walked into the observation room, where Dr. Ledger and Cameron Lewis sat watching the whole thing. I don't really know what I said to Dr. Ledger, but it was something along the lines of…

"This was a bad idea to begin with. The Joker is a pathological liar, which is controlled by violent outbursts and mood swings. He is not fit to give this lecture. This scenario should have never been thought up. He is a danger to anyone around him."

I remember Dr. Ledger's word perfectly as my world stated to fuzz and I saw black dots.

"I know he is not fit, but let's sit back and see how these lectures play out," he said with a clam voice and a sly smile. I blacked out and I woke up 4 hours later in the medical facilities on Arkham Island. Dr. Harleen Quinzel was in my room waiting for me to wake up and as soon I woke up, she started to gush other this 'new discovery' about the Joker. I listen to her rant and rave for an hour until the nurse came in and told Dr. Quinzel to leave. The next morning I checked myself out against the medical staff's advice. I needed to do my job. Something was up and I didn't like it.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, which I regretted doing a second after I had done it. My head throbbed in pain. The side of my face was covered with one nasty bruise. Under my lab coat and sweater, I was black and blue with little interesting shades purple and green mix in. Something was not right with Ledger. Any other supervisor would stop this program as soon as the Joker punched in that flat screen. Why hadn't Ledger? He has to have a reason. Could he be turning into another Scarecrow?

The security team rolled The Joker into the small room on an upright gurney. There were 5 guys in all, all big and burly with muscles and taser guns. There was more security this time then last. Last time, The Joker had everyone fooled that he was a 'good little boy' and would not start any trouble. Now, Dr. Ledger was not taking any more chances. One guy unstrapped The Joker from the gurney, sat him down on the chair and cuffed him to the metal table. Unlike last time, they cuffed his hands together. Then that same guy rolled the gurney out, leaving the other four with me. Two stood at either side of The Joker and another two stood guarding the door. The Joker turned his head around and looked at me.

"Ahh, Doc, what's the matter? You look a little blue," The Joker said in a burst of laughter. I said nothing. I just reached in my pocket and gripped the remote. I pushed the red buttons to turn on the TV box and webcam. The image of the darkened auditorium came on screen. I saw from behind The Joker that there were only five of the original students. I also saw a newcomer sitting right in the front row. The young women that came up with this 'new discovery' sat I the back row, closets to the door. From where I was I could not see defining coloring or features from where I stood. I could see she short. Her feet just barely touch the ground as she sat in the desk. Her hairs came down to her shoulders and were a mess of curls.

"Look, listen…we sorta got off on the wrong foot, yesterday," the Joker stated off smacking his lips together, "We all know why we're here. You want know something about me and I want to you people to gauche out your eyes out when you leave this mock drama… So why are you here? Are you danger junkies looking for one last thrill? Hah Ha are you suicidal? Or…just maybe… Heh heh…just maybe…you see something in me… that looks a lot like you? Mmmm … So what's it gonna be boys and girls? Are you as cucu for Cocopuffs as me," The Joker giggled. The students in the other class were silent. On our end, we were silent excepted for the ghoulish laughter coming from the Joker. Then a little feminine voice came over the air waves.

"…Insanity…," the little voice said. It came from the young women in the back row. The Joker stopped his giggles abruptly.

"Insanity," the little voice started again, building a little more confidence, "is what a society says is not the 'social norm'. If we put it that way, then someone not suffering from any mental illness can be labeled insane by a community or by a government. If a person living in a society that only eats vegetables and that person eats meat, then he or she will be labeled insane."

"Really? Now that's a joke. Your sa-," The Joker started, but was interrupted.

"What do you think about The Riddler," said the new voice. It was a strong voice and a in controlled voice. It can from the newcomer in the front row.

"Who," asked the Joker in confusion with a tilt of his head.

"The serial killer that has Gotham knees," the newcomer explained.

"Gotham ain't on it's knees. Well, not yet. No one is running around with they're head chopped off. No one's panicking. He's predicable. Boring," said The Joker with a roll of his eyes. His mannerisms might have been standoffish, but his voice was low and dangerous.

"You have to know something about him," newcomer's voice incised.

"It's not like serial killers have a group page on facespace or mybook, whatever the kids call it these days," laughed the Joker.

"But you must know something about him," the newcomer exclaimed with desperation.

"No.'t… And why you interested? Ya thinkin' of catching the big, scary riddleman, so your Daddy could be proud of you," The Joker sneered, "A worthless dropout, who can't even get a job at MickyD's…No wonder, he kicked your ass to the curb, making way for a new step-mommy… You think to make papa proud seeing you catching a man he never caught. HA, he'll despise you more. Despise you more than how he despises you for having your mama's face."

A loud noise of a desks be toppled other and a sound of feet running up stairs sounded over the air waves. The newcomer ran up the auditorium's stairs. I could see the shadow of her form stop before the auditoriums doors. She looked back at us.

"Say hi to the Commissioner for me, will ya," The Joker cackled loudly. The newcomer burst through the auditoriums door and the echo of a door slam rang though the air waves. "Now where were we, little bunny?"

"What? Oh… I don't know," the young women in the back row said like she was coming out of a daze.

"You had asked me on where I had gotten my scars? I once was an undercover cop working for the mob. Well, one day-," The Joker started.

"You were sitting in your apartment and some big guys burst through your door, unannounced. Seems some of your fellow officers were working for the mob and they ratted you out," the Bunny finished, "I saw the movie. That's not really what happened."

"When I was young, I always wanted to join the circus and one day-," The Joker started again on a different story.

"Yeah, sure that's believable. All children want to runaway and join the circus. But the story you're spewing is all a lie," interrupted the Bunny.

"One day, a Twinkie-," The Joker said almost sarcastically.

"A Twinkie? Let me guess. You were popular in school with all the girls. The guys at school didn't like that. Not one bit. So, one day they decide to mess your face up. So the girls wouldn't like you anymore. They put a couple of razor blades into a Twinkie and grabbed you and force fed you that Twinkie. You didn't let the razor blades go down your throat and the razor blades had to go somewhere. They cut your mouth from the inside out, leaving you with those scars. The end," Bunny said with a smirked, "Now that is all a story I am spinning. Just a story."

"You don't know. Your 'story' could be fact," The Joker laughed back.

"Origin of your scars can be whatever you want it to be."

"But what if…your story be true."

"No. No, it isn't. There is no real story behind those scars. Only fact and from where I'm sitting, I can't tell if either scars were cut from the inside out or from outside in," the girl in the back row explained.

"Why don't you move closer?"

"No, thank you."

"Aww, it's not like I can bite ya."

"Still, no thank you."

"Why?"

"Even if I go up to the screen I still…can't see…um"

"Ahh, you need to see in real life… An up close…PERSONAL… experience," The Joker purred. Time to stop. I pulled the remote from my pocket and press the button to turn off the webcam and the screen. As soon as the screen went black, The Joker stood up in anger, but was tasered back into his seat by the guards. Dr. Ledger came storming in. His face was red in anger. I could have sworn the vines on his forehead were pulsing in anger and there was hot steam coming out from his ears.

"Doctor Gary, what in God's name, are you doing," yell Ledger.

"I am stopping this lecture," I said as the guards quickly un-cuffed The Joker from the metal table and rolled the upright gurney into the small room. The guards then strapped The Joker's arms and leg in leather straps, all the while, he bit, scratched, hit, and kicked them. He was then rolled out of the room and transported to the 9th floor prison ward. I started to follow them, when Ledger blocked my way out out of the room.

"And why in hell did you do that," He asked. He was so close to me trying to stare me down. Spitting his words out at me.

"I didn't like how the conversation was going. I need to protect my patient and others from my patient…Where that conversation was going dangerous for my patient. I saw a problem and I made the call," I said glare up into Ledger spectacles. Dr. Ledger was an inch taller than me.

"Yes, you did. And you know wha-."

"It was my call. Not yours, Dr. Ledger. I was against this whole thing from the beginning." I said cutting Ledger off. Ledger calmed down and stepped back from me.

"Fine, Gray. It seems the stress is getting to you. Why don't you take some time off? I'll have Quinzel take over your case load when you're gone," Ledger said with a calm voice and a smirk. To hell if I'm going to let Harleen Quinzel get her hands on The Joker. She was already obsessed.

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Why, yes it is, Gray." Ledger smirk got wider.

"Fine," I said. I never raised my voice, but I directed all my anger into that word and at Ledger. I side stepped around Leger and accidental bumped Ledger right shoulder.

"Watch your back, Gray," Ledger said almost under his breath as I pasted him.

"Are you threatening me," I accused, turning back to him.

"No, not really. It's just a warning," he said with the smirk wiped off his face. I quickly walked, almost jugged, down the hall. I never looked back on Ledger.


	6. Chapter 6

Here it is. I'm terribly sorry that it is soooooooooooooooo late. Anyways thank you all for your support. I love ya all.

P.S please review

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Notice me

He is a pathological liar, has lack of remorse, shame, or guilt, hates 'the man', an impulsive nature, narcissistic, manipulative, and cunning. The Joker has all these social disorders, from what I witnessed. But was he 'insane'. He was random and hella fucked up, but not insane. I, Alice Conner, was starting to think that maybe The Joker was using the insanity plea as a means of protection. It's a great defense. In the modern era, if Booth turned himself in and claimed insanity when he shot Lincoln, that the 'devil' made him do it. Then he wouldn't have died on the porch of the Garrett farm, party burned with a bullet in his neck. The Joker was exploiting the human need to help others, twisting our kindness for his own means. People might say I'm insane for saying the Joker was actually sane. Whatever. Something deep I in my gut just was screaming at me, telling me that the guy on the screen with the Glasgow was not totally Loony Toons.

"Ahh, you need to see in real life… An up close…PERSONAL… experience," The Joker purred out, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. During the whole conversation I was trying to hold myself back, but my mouth kept on spewing almost all the things I was thinking out. I could not hold my tongue, which was bad. Because while I was trying desperately to hold my tongue, my words were not coming across as confident as they should have been. Lack of confidence always equals a dead duck in a argument.

Then suddenly The Joker disappeared and the screen went blank. The auditorium was silent, everyone looking at each other's faces in confusion. Then slowly, but surly, everyone's gaze fell on my face. I could feel the heat rushing to my face. I bet I was red as a tomato. I looked down and focused on my vans that were on my feet.

"Waydago, bitch. Now for sure our asses are going to be filled with lead," I heard Tony Castilo say with malice in his voice. I didn't look up to see that malice in his face.

"Enough, Mr. Castilo," I hear Professor Flores say as his heavy foot steppes echo from the front of the room towards where I was, "I warned you, Ms. Connor. Please get your things and get out of my classroom. I don't want to see your face in this class again. You understand, Ms. Conner?" I nodded my head, agreeing. I quickly got out of my seat and scooped up my books and my messenger bag. I partly ran out the door into the bricked hallway. The hallway was crowded and bustling with live, not knowing that there was a mass-murderer giving a lecture behind one of the auditorium doors. I started to walk to my Shakespeare class that I had next that was on the other side of the campus.

I didn't run in with anyone else from that class till a week later. During that week, there were several murders around the UC campus. Seems Tony ass did get his ass full of lead. He was shot six times in the chest and his face was covered in face paint like the Joker and carved up with a Glasgow smile. His body was found in the locker rooms of the gym. Next was Brandon Coleman. Poison then hung off the roof of the science department. Face painted and carved. Then finally; Grace Adams. She was found in the back off the library. She was beaten to death by a heavy object. Face painted and carved. The murders were making headlines. Gotham news networks were eating them up. They went on and on who could have killed these good wholesome kids. Funny thing is that they were down playing the first victim, Tony, because of his family connections to the decease, Donny Castilo, a drug runner for the mob. Sure the news raved over the murders for Adams and Coleman because their families were high class, new money people from Gotham. That's Gotham's news for you.

Even though, all the victim's faces were painted like The Joker, the murders were not committed by him. He was shown on the TV to be still locked up behind Arkham's think bricked walls.

I was walking down one of the many brick hallways of the building that was founded by the Wayne family back in the 1920's. The big bronze plaque gleamed in from the sunlight that came through the arched, glass windows. I squeeze my American lit book close to my chest. I was in a dark mood. I was late for class and my thoughts kept drifting back to last week and ultimately, The Joker. Mostly the conversation I had with The Joker.

My face was still flushed from the embarrassment as I thought about it. Teaches me to keep my big mouth shut. I was not angry because I was banned from class and the guest lecture but because I was frustrated. I don't know what it is about The Joker that makes me want to say something obscene and gouge out his eyes with a spork. I was so frustrated when I dealt with The Joker. And what's worse I also frustrated on being frustrated. Wait, does that make sense? ...Yeah, it does. I usually know why I feeling a certain way, like why I sad that certain moment or happy another certain moment. I didn't know what it is about him. I could not figure it out why I was so frustrated with the Joker. Was I mad I did not throw him into one of his rages? That's childish of me. Was I trying to prove myself to him? Maybe... Was I… Good God, was my frustration actual sexual frustration… Ahhhhh, hell no! Absolutely not. I thought all this as I stomped my feet down the hall.

Suddenly, I felt something tap my shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin. I let a small squeak came out of my mouth as I turn around to come face to face with Edward Nygma.

"You're afraid of attention," He said with that sly grin on his face. His eyes sparkled with creepy amusement that only Edward could pull off.

"Yeah, sure. You could say that. You have been following me to study me," I quickly stated as I turn my back from him and started down the hall again. Am I that much out of it that I didn't hear Edward following me. How did I not hear his footsteps? There is only him and I in this hallway. He had to have made some noised as he walked. As I walked down the hallway, I only heard the squeaky foot falls of my vans. I look over my shoulder to see if he was standing in the place I left him. He wasn't. Edward was following me closes behind. I did not hear him his foot falls at all. How was he doing it? Were his footsteps this silent when we had that run in at the news stand? I made a sharp left down another hallway. It took me a moment to realize that it was a dead end. I was so distracted that I went the wrong way to my American lit class. I quickly turned around and bashed my nose into Nygma's chest. I stumbled back a couple of steps from the impacted as I grasped my nose to check for bleeding. Edward tried to steady me by holding onto my upper arms as I tried to regain balanced.

"Why," Edward asked totally disregarding the 'you are stalking' comment. I looked up at him. His blue-green eyes were peering down into mine. He started to rub his thumb in a circular motion on my arms as he held them. That look in his eyes that he wants to eat me or bow down to me, but there was something else, something that I only saw when he talked about The Joker or The Riddler. His eyes were slightly and I mean slightly glazed over with a look of curiosity. Like I was a strange and shiny object to look at and figure out.

"Why, what," I said nervously. I clutched my textbook closer to my chest.

"Why are you afraid of people noticing you? It an unusual fear, don't you think so. How did you get it," Edward said drawing me in closer to his body by snaking his arm around my waist. His body was solid. I could feel his lean stomach muscles on my upper stomach though his t-shirt and mine. Because of our high difference, his hips grounded on my lower stomach.

"Taking lessons from Dr. Crane, aren't we, Edward? A fear is a fear, doesn't matter how you get them," I said as I tried to pull away from him and out of his grasp. I was not succeeding.

"Understanding why a certain someone is afraid of something, might make me understand _her _better," said during his face closer to mine. It felt like he was flirting with me. I could feel his warm breath on my face. His gaze fluttered from my face to my textbook squeezed cleavage, then back to my face. _Her? _He means me. Why would he want to understand me? I may be hard to figure out sometim….CHALLENGE. He sees a challenge on figuring me out. That rat-ass bastard.

"Is this how you flirt with women, Edward? This is such a cliché to say this, but you don't impress me much," I nervously said as I looked him straight in his blue-green eyes. He had a glorious look of surprise written on his face, but it slowly turned into a look I have never saw before on him. Lust. I have seen the looked played on other men faces countless times before, but it was never directed at me. The look that replaced that shocked look was frightening to me. I became very nervous. That look was very dark. All that amusements and curiosity that saw just a moment ago was gone. There was only lust and murder in his eyes. I un-consciously licked my dry lips from being so nervous. Edward took this as an invitation. He dipped his head forward and tried to catch my lips with his own. I quickly turned my head towards one side. His lis touched my left cheek and started kissing it. His soft lips made light butterfly kisses from my cheek, across my jaw towards my ear. They were gently but they lightly burned my skin. A shiver ran up and down my spine. I knew he could feel it. I could feel him smirking into those butterfly kisses as he reached my ear.

"Really," Edward whisper harshly in my ear. He lightly bit my ear. I did not like this. I did not like his hands all over my body.

"You like a challenges. You base most of your life around overcoming challenges. Solving puzzles. I bet you see women as another challenge to conquer. Once you conquer them, you throw them away. Well, I'm not going to be figured out, and then tossed out the window. Fuck that. I am not some puzzle to be solved, Edward Nygma," I spat in his face. Edward stepped back from me. He gave me enough room to move my arms. I quickly smacked him over the head with my America Lit book. I didn't really know how hard I hit him, but hard enough that he stumbled away from me and griped his head in pain. I did not take notice of how he was doing as I quickly ran past him. I kept running, never looking behind me, down the hallways and up a staircase, till I got to my American lit class. I rushed throw the doors with a bang. I came face to face with annoyed stares from my fellow students and the professor. I quickly sat in the back wishing I had a bag to place over my head. I then realized my textbook was not with me. Just great, just peachy, there goes another $300 down the drain.

I had 2 more classes after my American lit class till I slowly willed my ass up the wooden stairs to the apartment I shared with Kitty. I met Kitty at the start of middle school. We became best friends quickly. She was bubbly and happy, it kind of scare me how bubbly she was. She was a huge romantic wish her head in the clouds and who gushed over the hot hunks of the time. She might appear a ditz, but she wasn't. She had a good head on her shoulders and she was using that head to become a divorce lawyer. I never understood how Kitty, the 'someday my prince may come' romantic, came up with the idea on being a divorce lawyer. Kitty's family moved from San Francisco to a suburb outside of Gotham during the first year of high school. We kept in contact and when I told her I was going to try to get into UC Gotham. She was ecstatic and kept squealing on about being roommates over the phone. I got into UC Gotham quite easily. Too easily. Because of The Joker's escapades, high school students form out of state don't even think about coming to Gotham and the ones that have grown up in Gotham they try they're hardest to not stay to get go to college out of state.

"Hey, Al," I heard Kitty loudly spoke as I opened the apartment door. Her voice came from the kitchen I closed the door and locked the dead-bolt. I leaned against it for a minute. The apartment was humid, which was a nice change. Outside the weather still winter, but acting a little like spring.

"Sam let you off early," I asked as I threw off my messenger bag into the little closet near the entrance door and I lazily took off my old, brown leather jacket. I hung it up on one of the coat hangers.

"Yeah, it's great. He needed the restaurant for a sister's aunt's cousin's wedding or something or other. OH, you wouldn't believe what happen today. You know, Mary, the girl I work with, the one with the crazy colored hair. Well, today when I was going to lunch, I saw her fucking Mr. Suit or whatever-his-name-is, the guy who is always at her table on his crack-berry. They were just fucking there right in the ally-way of the back entrance," Kitty gossiped as I made my way to the little round table, that had some of it legs propped up by books, in the kitchen. I could not see her face from here. The chair squeaked its discontent of my weight. Kitty was humming away, her long black hair pulled into a pony tail, and an old long white apron covered her light blue tank top and black jeans. She was wrapping the thin wheat skins around the shrimp and then placing them onto the steamer. She was sad. She always starts making dim sum* when she starts feeling sad and depressed. "Sam splashed a pail of ice on them. You should have seen the look on their faces!"

"What else happened," I asked as I leaned on the table, my head resting on my arms.

"Huh," Kitty questioned. She turned to face me. Her dark, almost black, brown eyes peered out from under her swiping bangs with interested. I pointed to the covered mountain of har gau** and siu mai*** that was next to the sink.

"Oh…umm…My parents are going back to China for a couple of weeks this month," she said turning back to thin wheat skins.

"Ahh, and you want to go with them?"

"Of course, I have not seen Grandma for 4 years now. Plus, I need a break from Gotham. I'm still getting over the carjacking," Kitty explained. About a month ago, I let Kitty borrow my Beetle. I had let her use it because she didn't have one and she needed to visit her family for Christmas in the suburbs. Before she got out of the city, she was held at gunpoint. The bastards took her purse and jewelry, and then decided to jack my bug as well. At least Kitty wasn't hurt physical, that's good, but they stole my baby. "I hear the bookstore around the corner from the restaurant is looking for people."

"Really," I raised my head in interested. The first job I had in Gotham was at a chain coffee shop in Old Gotham. It went out of business 6 months later. I have been looking for a new one since then, but no one is hiring anybody anywhere.

"Yep"

"Do you think they are still open," I said getting up out of my seat.

"I believe so. They might be closing in an hour or so" Kitty said as she places another har gau onto the steamer. I quickly wall to the closet and pull on my brown leather jacket. I fished though my messenger bag and retrieved my ID, keys, and cell phone.

"I'll be back in an hour or so" I said as I opened and closed the door to the apartment. I almost flew down the stair and out into the night chilly night air.

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I don't know how many of you know about the Asia food I refereed to in this chapter. So I'm explaining.

* a Chinese cuisine that has a wide range of different foods in small portion. You usually eat these small portion food with tea.

** shrimp dumpling

*** a small dumpling that has either pork or prawn or sometimes both in them.


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